Placing the Blame
by Lady Papre
Summary: Summary: A one-shot of my mage Hawke.


Title Placing the Blame

Length: 1,880

Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Fanfic: One shot of Hawke's character development.

Copyright: I do not own any of the characters. Bioware does.

Summary: A brief over view of the major losses to Hawke... or, at least, my Hawke. How does she take the blame over the years? Does she blame anyone else?

Aveline had been there when my little sister died. I didn't flinch or wince under the agonizing screams of my mother, and I didn't bat an eyelash when she lashed out at me. Instead, all I could say with a forced smile on my face was "At least father won't be lonely." It didn't seem to satisfy the burning fire in my mother's eye, and it didn't sate the mourning in her heart. But I stood anyway, and clutched desperately at my staff as more Darkspawn began to flood the top of the hill… until, out of nowhere, a massive dragon had come and swooped down on the advancing enemy. The Witch of the Wilds had been a curious, albeit nonthreatening, creature. I got us a way to Gwaren to take ship… and I helped aid a tainted Templar. I never raised a weapon myself on the man, but I never spoke a harsh word to Aveline about the action she had to take on that fateful day. The pain of loss on everyone's end brought us closer together, I thought. It would make lasting and long living friendships. Thankfully, the Witch got us to Gwaren before more could be ripped away from us.

A year in servitude later, my brother and I were hunting down some work. The Templars were getting suspicious, and it was best not to draw attention to ourselves. It was at that point that we met Varric, the charismatic younger brother of Bartrand… the dwarf who had just thrown us on our butts for asking about the Deep Roads expedition. Varric was like a surrogate brother to both Carver and I, but it was something never voiced. After Varric, we found Anders – the Gray Warden apostate running a free clinic in Dark Town. Almost instantly, we didn't see eye to eye and it seemed to bring Carver and I closer together. Despite the fact that Anders and I share in this special bond of being an illegal mage… he was the human embodiment of what the Templars feared. Then came Isabela, the pirate who couldn't find her treasure. Merrill, the elven blood mage who didn't understand the dangers of her magic. And Fenris, the runaway and escaped slave with his former master chasing him down. Together, we overcame all of our challenges and we raised the money to pay our way into the Deep Roads expedition.

Varric had been there when my little brother died. I had been so stupid to let him come on this journey with me. I should have made him stay home, like Mother had asked me too. He made me promise to look after our mother, and to take good care of her in his absence. I promised up to the Maker and back that I would, and then he made me put him out of his misery. He died the same way that Aveline's husband had perished a year ago. His tainted blood was on my hands, and there was nothing I could do about it. Agony filled my mouth like a poison, even as Varric promised me that we wound find Bartrand and make him pay for what had transpired. Carver had died in the Deep Roads, just as Bethany had died during the Blight. Irony was thick and heavy, but it did not make the mourning weigh any less. It was as heavy as a boulder and as thick as the Gallows' walls.

No one had been there when I returned home, and told my mother. She broke down into tears and wept, silently blaming me for the loss of her two youngest children. It had been my fault that Bethany had died. It was my fault for Carver. I could have saved them both, but for some reason, the Maker allowed me to live. Despite the fact that I was able to buy my mother's childhood home, she didn't come around to speaking to me in a motherly way until three quiet years had passed. I kept myself busy with my companions, of course. I vehemently argued with Anders, and went on wild goose chases with Isabela after her missing treasure. I aided the Viscount and the city guard when Aveline needed it. I swapped crazy stories with Varric, and spent money nights down in the Hanged Man - drinking and forgetting the memories of my past.

Anders had been there when my mother was murdered. I held her broken body in my arms, and sobs shook my body. I listened and wept as she forgave me. I whined when she told me she loved me. Nothing I could do could save her, and I knew it. It was my fault. And this feeling was engraved deeper into my soul when my Uncle - my only remaining family - reiterated it in my own study. I stood there with wide and injured eyes as he spat about my speed and my strength, and how mother shouldn't have married my father. He told me to my face that I should be locked up in the Circle. "You would have been better off if you had been normal like your brother." I didn't have the heart to argue with him, and lowered my gaze as he stalked out of the estate. Nothing brought me comfort in the coming weeks. Not even the success of having Isabela come back with her treasure. Even defeating the Arishok seemed to be a hallow victory.

I continued to explore this odd relationship I had with Fenris, despite the fact that he had pushed me away. As the Champion of Kirkwall, I had an amazing amount of time on my hands. But as Varric would tell anyone willing to listen, I was not the sarcastic and charming person he had met before the Deep Roads. I seemed colder towards the world, despite the fact that I always did what I needed to help it out. I even kept close relations with all of my companions - I helped Fenris defeat his former Master to the death. I let him kill his sister. The elf didn't seem too upset at the loss, and in truth, I was too cold to feel any sort of regret at the act. I couldn't even wrap my head around the dispute between mages and Templars. Why wouldn't everyone just get along? Was Anders fanning the flame under the boiling pot? It was possible. But I was stupid enough to believe that he was trying to separate himself from the infused spirit of Justice and Vengeance. I helped him in every part of his venture.

Fenris had been there when the Chantry was destroyed. I stared in horror as the sky was lit aflame by the burning ashes of slaughtered innocence, and I listened in anguish as the streets of Kirkwall began to echo with screams. I was mildly comforted by Fenris's hand on my wrist, but it wasn't enough. I shouted at Anders, wanted to know what he had done. "I have removed the chance of compromise, because there is no chance of compromise." That was not a reason in my book. This was not the way to make things better – it would only make things worse. All of the people that Anders had helped over the years had been for him to potentially kill? Regardless of my disgust in the man and his kind, I could not let Meredith invoke the Right of Annulment on the Circle because of an apostate's actions. I fought against the Templars in that square, and I was left the First Enchanter to deal with my 'companion'. He was no longer a friend of mine.

Isabela was there when I shoved that dagger between the Gray Warden's ribs. She watched as the tears ran down my face, and the life vanished from the man's eyes. I didn't care. This whole thing was practically my fault – I had let it happen. I tossed the dagger to the ground as I pushed the dead idiot off of his stupid box. "We have to get to the Gallows." A nearly harsh command left my lips as I grabbed up my staff, turning and heading down the steps in a smooth motion. I heard barely a pause, before there were several sets of footsteps following behind my path. Kirkwall had been set aflame, and there was nowhere near enough water in the world to put the burning ashes out. Andraste had been right, hadn't she. Magic was meant to serve man, not rule over him. Thankfully, I thought cynically, I was a woman… and I knew where to put my skills to use.

Merrill had been there when the First Enchanter snapped. She saw my eyes darken and she heard the hiss pass my lips as a fireball shot out of my finger tips to the willing abomination in front of me. I don't think the elf had ever seen me so angry in another living thing. I had no regrets as I stomped the life out of Orsino's mutated and disgusting body. I had no regret as I drove my boot into his squishy head. Fenris had been right. A mage would justify any reason to turn to blood magic. Once trapped in a corner, they would do whatever they needed to overcome what blocked their way. The hatred and anger rolled off of me in waves, and I sent a knowing look in both directions. One to Fenris as a form of understanding, and one to Merrill as a mirror to disgust.

Knight-Captain Cullen had been there, when I confronted Meredith. He saw the energy ebbing out of my will, and the shocking look of defeat cross my features when those statues came to life. But with the battle roaring around me, I didn't have much of a choice. I concentrated my energy completely on defeating the remaining enemy in my path. I cast spell after spell, and attacked in unison with my companions… I didn't let up. I stood before Meredith as she crumbled under the Relic's power… I watched as she turned into a burning frozen ashen statue of herself. My gaze lifted briefly, empty and challenging to Cullen… and he backed away. It was satisfying and sickening at the same time. I clutched at my staff, and leaned against Fenris as we turned… and fled out of the city. I couldn't tell you how far or how fast we ran.

Eventually, they all left me. Varric was the last to depart, and Fenris was staying by my side. We were huddled in a little alcove; a few weeks after Kirkwall went up in flames. The elf and the dwarf were trying to carry on as they had in the past, and tried to get me to join into their fun and their games. The night air was bitter and sharp. So with a heavy sigh, I licked my lips and looked towards the billowing smoke. My friend and my lover fell silent, waiting in anticipation. How long had it been since I had spoken? I didn't even know. But I will never forget the flinching and pained look on either of their faces when my voice finally left my lips.

"It is all my fault."


End file.
